I’m sure you’ve read it in a newspaper article, Bulletin Board post or blog somewhere. Sumitra, rest in peace.
I’m not sad, just shocked. The irony of it all! She was day in day out sincerely happy. The only time she ever wore a look of distress was when I hid her phone from her. She wasn’t nauseatingly sweet. She was the first person to say that my new haircut made me look more attractive (a few days after, but still!)
I didn’t expect to see her coming down the escalator as I came down the stairs at KL Sentral. She was reloading her phone credit. Was I the last crew member to have met her? If I wasn’t off to the monorail in a hurry, could I have affected her course in a small way, like going to get a cone sundae together, having her unconsciously splitting her last RM10 note, so she could not reload, and had to abandon plans?
Even more odd was that Friday night, I went to Orange for an event with free flow of lychee martinis. After 3 tiny watered down glasses, I wanted to see if I was drunk by solving a Rubik’s cube under 2 minutes. Despite the low lighting, I managed 1:58, and a financier dude said, “dude, I’ll buy you any drink you want, on me.” I asked my inviter friend what he wanted, since I didn’t know. He got a jug of Long Island Tea. I liked this better than the martini and vodka since it tasted less alcoholic and more orange-ice-lemon-tea-ish. Thirsty, I sipped like a tropical mosquito. The financier dude took out his PDA and asked me to play Text Twist. Despite the drink’s supposed punch, I only felt dizzy when I craned over to play. I managed to walk to the toilet straight, and I wasn’t loud or noisy.
Had I escaped the genetic curse of my parents?
Heterosexual guys like myself sometimes jokingly flirt (because we make the best gay jokes!) but I kept quiet this time so as to not offend or suggest anything to my inviter’s gay friends. The inviter dude, however, was inebriatedly hitting on his gay friends. The inviter’s girlfriend looked away. She had something to drink, too. We had beef noodle before she sent me back. Lucky it was her small little Kelisa and not his souped up Satria. Lucky it was bumpy old Segambut.
I woke up at 1pm, 4 hours after I was supposed to report to work. No hangover, just two days of sleep. I should be thankful. Sure, the inviter’s girlfriend seemed sober, but there could be lack of acuity. I should be thankful.
She wasn’t a suicidal or depressed person. I know so many people who have wanted a fling with death. God, fate, or consequence, whichever you believe in, works in funny ways.
P.S. The catchy title was supposed to be “let her RIP“. She wouldn’t haunt me for it, she has a sense of humor. (Who else would arrest the cows?)